Remedy Z: Solo (26 page)

I looked at Terry and his crew and I decided that I may never again get the chance to examine a neo-zombie in such detail. I need answers and wanted to understand them more, document them in my book. I was not doctor but I had a good sense of anatomy after looking at the insides of so many animals and zombies and I decided I would do an autopsy of sorts on the bodies. While time wasn’t on my side, I decided that it was worth the risk in the pursuit of knowledge. 

What I sought was a discovery that showed the distinct difference between the lucid zombies in this crew and a standard zombie. One of the swimmers was still yet to be burned and would make an excellent comparison to one of the neo-zombies. It was a gruesome task but I would write about that autopsy and share the knowledge with others in the future.

Terry was carved up but not destroyed so I decided I would use him as the benchmark for a neo-zombie. I had already made a gaping wound in his chest. I laid him out next to the fire and I plunged the razor-sharp German steel into the existing wound and pushed forward, opening his chest cavity up completely. I did so with the last swimmer too, opening him right up. I kneeling between the old new world and the new world I was just getting involved in.

I paused at that moment and got some supplies from the canoes for this grizzly job. In some unnatural science experiment worthy of mention in a Mary Shelly classic, lightning raged, as did the wind and spitting rain. The madness of the warped scene was added to by my wearing a head-torch, bandana, some latex gloves and a floral barbecue apron. It would have been such a bizarre scene to witness; but I got into it in the name of science, survival and the future of man.

The sky was grim and I was surrounded with darkness on all sides. But it was my fire of bodies and large lumps of wood and branches from all around acted as my shining light, my warmth, my hope for a better place. I worked as fast as I could as I held a sense of impending doom. That crew of neo-zombies (the name I coined for that type of phenomenon) would not go lost and unnoticed for long. 

I quickly looked at the damaged lungs and could see the sort of thing you would see in a smoker but zombies had that too. His lungs were liquefying into a rancid fluid though, rather than the tar of a smoker; liquefaction. It just wasn’t advanced like in the Swimmer. Nothing too different there though. The stomach was the same, full of ulcerations and, again liquefying. Terry was in better shape than the swimmer corpse but he was still showing me signs of infection. The heart was still pretty functional in both bodies, basic decomposition but little difference. The livers were completely shot: really bad smells came out of those but no difference.

And then I found something remarkable. The kidneys in Terry were almost fresh, like a normal person. They were filtering the blood, clearly, and I theorised that this must have been slowing the complete degeneration of a human into a zombie state. Something was slowing the change. What the media had coined “turning”; the profound difference between zombie and human was being staved off. That something was potent enough to hold off Divine. It was my holy grail and I was Sir Galahad. If you don’t get the reference, you are missing out; read about it.

I gagged at the smell of those awful livers and threw them onto the fire. They, I think, were part of the revelation. The Divine virus needed to poison the person, almost kill them so the spark was gone but take command with its own controls. I continued into the brain and found nothing unusual which was unexpected. I looked and looked, time ticking, desperately searching for some evidence but found nothing. I had all but given up and rolled Terry over toward the fire. My killing blow with my knife had gone right through him and just exiting out the back with a coin-sized hole. I saw something terrifying as I was about to put him on the fire. “Blackness!”

I wasted no further time in slicing off a slab of his back flesh to look at what was hiding below. Divine was not a brain infection like everyone had thought. I found a thin, translucent, inky film of matter, like mouldy skin, that coated the spine, right down to the base. I knew this was a breakthrough at the time and it would prove to be an early insight into truly understanding Divine.

I would later learn and understand that Divine used the spine as its conduit to control the brain. That film was the puppeteer. Beheading a zombie had the desired effect but it was the base of the spine where the virus had manifested its control room. I didn’t have it all worked out at the time but my mind exploded with the possibilities that the base of the spine was uniquely different between zombies that had turned and infected people who were in the process of succumbing to its illness. 

I could have stood there and pontificated in the wind and pouring rain, but I had to get moving, in order to survive. I knew that my new enemy would be upon me. I retrieved my now-charged personal device and made multiple photographs of what I had found. What had kept the kidneys functional and the other organs from complete capitulation to the Divine virus was unclear; the missing link. I concluded there was an outside factor, a treatment of sorts. I was determined to work it out another time. I was extraordinarily excited; the revelation was ground breaking. My mission and job were getting clearer.

“Time to get moving!” I shouted triumphantly as I piled more wood onto the fire and the bodies of the Crims and the last swimmer. 

I was just about to consider abandoning my trip into Tantangara by getting into that van and driving back to the holiday park. I could then have driven the truck home; years’ worth of supplies. But my world was not just about survival anymore and a little voice reached me. “Am I going mad or can I hear a voice?” I thought. I could hear a faint voice, crackling with an electronic sound. I followed it and found a military radio on the ground, near where I had laid Hoggy to rest with a .308 projectile. “Squad 2, what the fuck are you bastards doing? Respond over.” A crass, coarse woman’s voice squelched over the old-school device. Without thinking, I picked up the radio and impersonated Terry. It was all I could do to buy time. 

I put on the most low-life voice I could muster and went with it. It was a big gamble. “Yeah, this is Tez, over. Who’s this and whaddaya want?” I said, hoping for the best. “Yeah, fuck you too Tez. It’s Maeve; who’d ya think it was? Yer mutha? ” She played right into my game. “Where ‘ave yous been? What are we doin’? Over.” The voice asked. “We’re in Tanny. The place is full of bloody zombies. Over” I replied and lied as casually as I could. It seemed to be working. “Why isn’t Mike talkin’ to me then? Over.” She was suspicious now but kept the dialogue going. I thought of the most normal thing someone has to do and then figured on how I could deliver that message in the crassest way. “Mike’s takin’ a shit. The fat bastard was eatin’ too much and he’s gotta clean house.” I said jovially. There was a snorting laugh followed up with a response; “Yeah, that’s Mike, God love ‘im. We’re headin’ your way now. Did you’s have a fire? I can see smoke, ovah.” I thought quickly and responded. “Yep, just getting’ dry after the rain,” I said.

“Yeah, while you’s were dryin’, My radio went fuckin’ flat. Only just charged enough to talk ta ya. Ovah” Maeve snorted and gave an awful laugh. “So what ‘ave you seen and where are you goin’ next? Ovah.” She was comfortable now. I knew they would be coming and I needed to throw them off. The van could be chased-down, the fire was a dead-giveaway. I needed to act quickly. “Yeah, we tried to get ya on the wireless, good to have you back online. We think we seen a trail-bike headed outta Tanny t’ward Bimberi-way. But some fuckin' zombies got in the way. Might be our bloke.” My ruse would throw them off long enough for me to hide out on Tiger Island. “We killed some zombies wiv them cricket bats and put ‘em on the fire. Once we’re done ‘ere, we’ll head ta Bimberi for a look. You’ll come wiv? Over.” I was chuffed with the ruse and where it was heading. “Come wiv? I’m leading this fuckin’ squad patrol and I have the only gun so ya better believe it! But, yeah, right behind ya Tez. We’ll meetcha at the resort. Squad leader over and out.” I could tell Maeve had loved the radio formalities and being in charge of the operation, whoever she was.  

I quickly jumped in the van and drove it inside the shed. It may be found eventually but I needed to have it out of sight so it was plausibly far away. The canoes needed to go and I would go with them. I ran, with all my speed and agility and jumped into the canoe and pushed off. I worked the paddle hard, initially dressed like the bizarre surgeon. I smashed through the water, harder than I had ever paddled with the hope I could make it to Tiger Island and be so insignificant a speck on the lake that the unsuspecting “Squad” passed me by and headed to the ski fields on a red herring. Even better would be if I made it to Tiger Island and watched from there.  

My mind continued to wander and ponder as the weather picked up and threatened to pick me up, literally, and roll me and the small watercraft I relied upon to stay afloat with all my gear. It was slow progress in the cold and wet. The wind began to sting and I thought I was in for a very rough night. I thrashed out ideas as I thrashed out in the bad weather and battled for survival. A thousand ideas swam around in my head “Who was Maeve?“, I thought. “Did she work for the Doc? Was she a neo-zombie too?” I questioned everything. “Schemes and future strategies formed in the choppy water and freezing wind. I was trying not to think too much and focus on the speed and technique of the paddling but I was puzzling over the anatomical discovery and having spoken to these new-found “neo-zombies” as I called them. I just needed to get to the refuge of the Island, get out of sight and off the grid, before all hell broke loose. But I knew that all hell was always going to break loose after what had just happened. 

But as with all things, the fear and dark, sinister or foreboding comes to pass. I beached my craft on Tiger Island after a hard paddle through some of the roughest weather you would ever take on in a small watercraft on Lake Tantangara. I had navigated around to the north eastern shore of the island to avoid being seen by Maeve and her squad. I hauled the canoes ashore. The weight of the supplies made it a massive physical effort but I was running on adrenaline; running indeed. I ran south to the pinnacle of the island, it wasn’t too far and set myself up in a lying position with my binoculars, watching and waiting for something to happen. Like clockwork, around a quarter of an hour later, another white van and a trail-bike drove through Tantangara, slowly past the bonfire, past the outdoor shop and onwards toward Bimberi. They thought everything was in-pattern for what they saw and had heard from “Tez” (me). But one thing was out of order; Maeve was pretty good for a zombie and I realised she wasn't truly undead. "Perhaps something between human and fully infected?" I was on the right track.

”Hey Tez or Mike? Over.” The radio was squawking again. “Yeah, Tez ‘ere, ovah!. I said, mustering up the right voice and persona for this dialogue. “That fire was pretty fuckin’ big. How many of ‘em did you kill? Over.” I tried to play it down with an attempt at the Aussie tradition of poking fun at someone. “Big? there was only a half dozen of the fuckers,” I said, downplaying things. “Just coz you can’t build a fire or tell how big one is!” I took the piss out of her. “Yeah, yeah. Fuck you too. Me and them four jail-birds will meet ya there. Maevo over and out.” Maeve replied. I turned the radio off to ensure no-one could use it to triangulate my position or break my cover or work me out. As tempted as I was to continue to play games, I knew that it would only make matters worse. 

I returned to the canoes and began to unload and create the stash I was thinking about. That apple core that I brought with me from home had been on quite a journey of the last couple of days. I wanted to plant it on Tiger Island as a permanent source of food and shelter. I hoped that one of those seeds would grow to provide sweet apples and shade to someone who could enjoy it. I went about planting a few seeds at some suitable points on the island. I set up a tent hidden in some tea-tree. I deliberately picked out a heavy duty “outfitter” grade shelter, semi-permanent and hid it well in the scrub and tea trees. Maeve and her squad would still be on the way to Bimberi for now. I would have to wait it out for a while. In the meantime, I would get the outpost setup. With the basics of a hidden camp established, I emerged from the scrub to see a breathtaking sight. The water was rippling gently, alive with hope and the sky was glistening clear and starlit. I dragged the canoes up into hiding places, turning to look at the natural spectacle. The storm had passed. While the world was dark, it glimmered with hope and I marvelled at it. 

Chapter 14: Ghost-Town Alamo

In the middle of the night I had woken to see the headlights of the van and the trailbike heading back to Cooleman. They really weren’t the sharpest tools in the shed; no stop to check out the bonfire or shed next to where the bonfire burned. They would be back and I would have to be on my toes. 

After the drone of engines disappeared from range and not a single light could be seen, I went back to sleep, feeling safe in my little outpost on Tiger Island. I slept through the night, keeping as alert as I could and scanning the area with my binoculars at various intervals. Despite the interrupted sleep, I felt refreshed and watched the sun come up. I was feeling alive and well for the first time in a long time. The excitement of the cat and mouse engagement had me on a high.

With a lazy yawn and a stretch, I sat down and ate some cereal with some powdered milk. I used small travel packs of both items so as not to soil larger containers that could remain sealed. It tasted great and it wasn’t long before I was motivated to get onto the task of finalising the outpost on Tiger Island.

I spent the morning setting up a small water catchment, weather-station with its own battery pack and solar charging system. Other small scale solar panels and an extra tarp over the tent were also setup. The tarp would increase the life of the dwelling. The lock-box was filled with food, first-aid supplies, general equipment and fishing gear. It was stashed on high ground, nearby the tent in some scrub. I also elevated it on some rocks and covered it in a large, industrial plastic that had been on a canoe. It was locked with the combination lock; 3-0-0-6. The number was one of my favourite rifle calibres and was memorable. More food and items, similar to what was in the lock-box, were stashed inside the tent, along with a dozen average quality fishing rods and lock-knives, lamps and torches, a couple of cots raised off the floor.